


Goo Gone

by Soleya



Series: Fifty First Dates [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soleya/pseuds/Soleya
Summary: It's their first date. Except I've hashed this idea out so many times, this series will be many, many first dates.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Series: Fifty First Dates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707853
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	Goo Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many little ficlets (and even more ideas) for exactly how Jack's and Sam's first date went. I desperately need to do something productive during quarantine other than sewing masks, so I'm putting them up here.
> 
> I hope everybody's staying healthy out there.

Jack O'Neill surveyed the porch he was standing on and frowned at his options. The rocking chair was out – he was in his fifties, not his eighties; why Carter even _had_ the damn thing was beyond him. The railing was awkward with a little point at the top that didn't look comfortable. And that just left the steps. Which wouldn't be nearly as annoying if _his_ knees were the same age as _her_ knees. But they weren't.

Still, it was that or stand for God knew how long.

He sat.

He fiddled with his watch.

He fiddled with his phone.

He fiddled with his watch again.

He thought about calling someone and determined that everyone he'd call was probably as busy as she was.

He set his watch from Eastern Time back to Mountain Time. And then changed his mind and moved it up again.

A red Volvo literally screeched to a halt behind his rental truck. Carter was out of it almost before it stopped moving – a feat, since she'd been the one behind the wheel – and darted through the front gate. “I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry.”

“No big deal,” he said, holding out a hand for some help off the steps.

She missed it, already rifling through her keys as she hopped past him and headed for the door. “We got caught in the caves. The path ended up covered in some sort of... it was gross,” she decided, “and we had to find another way out.”

“Okay.” Jack managed to get to his feet and reach the top step just as the door popped open and she disappeared inside. Frustrated, he mimicked grabbing her as he followed her into the dark. This was not how he'd envisioned the night going; he'd planned for a bit more than glances of her back as she ran away from him. Of course, he hadn't planned on her being forty minutes late for their first date, either.

“Tell me you didn't make reservations somewhere,” she pleaded from halfway down the hall. Her purse skidded across the kitchen island and spilled some of its contents just short of the other edge. Her keys flew past that, landing on the tile floor with a jingle. She was clearly to the rushing stage where the adrenaline became self-defeating as every action just created more work.

“Don't worry about it. Take a breath,” he tried as she yanked the zipper of her uniform jacket down so fast it jammed.

“ _Dammit_.” Hauling the metal up and down a few times, she managed to force it past its sticking point and open. The jacket landed on the table as she reached for her boots. She either hadn't needed the outerwear on SG-1's little excursion or had swapped it out to drive home, because the BDUs underneath were filthy.

And he wasn't about to mention it, but the smell emanating from her area of the dining room was... less than rosy.

Her fingers tore at her boot laces as she insisted, “I just need, like, two minutes to change. It won't take me long. I swear.”

Boy, he sure hoped that stench was her uniform, then. Because when he'd imagined their first date, he'd thought she'd smell more like perfume than an offworld garbage heap. “Take your time. Really.”

Her boots clomped to the floor, the left one tipping to its side and staying there. Again, she rushed past him without so much as a glance.

She made it as far as the hallway and froze. “I can't,” she said, her back still to him. “God. I'm sorry. I can't.”

Jack was pretty sure his heart stopped beating for a moment. “Can't... what?” He had to wonder if the panic read in his face as she turned. He'd been waiting the past two weeks for her to freak out and push him away, and he was pretty sure he'd just found his moment.

But she pressed, “I have _got_ to take a shower. I can't be in civilization like this. I'm sorry; I just-”

Enough. Closing the space between them in two long strides, he caught her face – gently, but quickly enough to stun her into blissful silence. “ _Carter_. I've waited eight years. Another twenty minutes isn't gonna kill me.”

Her big blue eyes flew up to his, undoubtedly looking for some sort of echo of her own impatience. But he didn't let her find any, forcing her still until reason took hold again and the panic began to abate. Finally, her breathing started to slow and the tiniest of smiles crossed her face.

Content that he'd gotten his point across, he gently pulled his hands back. And he couldn't have been happier to stop touching her, because she'd obviously cleaned herself up but had missed some sort of goo in her hair that was now on the tips of his ring and middle fingers. “Also,” he murmured, holding his hands up between them, “you're _really icky_.”

A single, sharp laugh escaped her. “Yeah. I am. I stuck a few beers in the fridge for you.”

“Great. Go,” he offered, waving her down the hall. Only after she disappeared did he let himself turn his attention back to the ooze on his hands. “Ugh,” he grunted and headed for the sink.

~/~

Carter – Sam, Jack reminded himself – wasn't a feet-on-furniture kind of woman, and he was being a good boy with both feet on the floor and a coaster under the beer on the coffee table. This was a new chapter for them, and he was trying his damnedest to make a good impression. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced up as she stepped into the doorway and said with a smile, “Okay. Sorry about that.”

There were surely a million suave things for him to say at that moment, but he couldn't come up with a single one. Because her lipstick was the perfect shade of red. Because the lace of the dress covered anything that could be considered remotely indecent, but the black fabric underneath plunged deeply in the middle and only covered down to mid-thigh. Because the stilettos she'd chosen were downright deadly.

Her arms moved self-consciously to shield herself. “Is this okay?”

“It was definitely worth the wait,” he managed, pushing to his feet as the words sunk in and the uncertainty on her face was replaced by a shy smile. “You look... incredible.”

The way her head dropped didn't hide the smile that grew until her nose wrinkled. “Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, Jack somehow managed to regain a little sense. Just a smidgen. Enough to move closer and tell her, “I, uh.... They bumped our reservations to eight.”

“Oh, great,” she said. “Did you tell me where? I don't remember.”

He was having trouble remembering much of anything at the moment. “Favazza's. So we should leave in about five minutes. And you're gonna need a minute or so to fix that lipstick.”

She blinked. “What's wrong with my-”

One hand pressed to her cheek as it had twenty minutes before. The other slipped behind her neck. And his mouth found hers.


End file.
